iHave a Horrible Thanksgiving
by theboyandgirlwhowaited
Summary: Based off of the blogs from iCarly . com. Sam has to spend Thanksgiving…with the Bensons! Humoristic two-shot, Seddie friendship. For all iCarly fans - Seddie, Creddie, Spam, Cibby, Sibby, etc.
1. Chapter 1: Sam Arrives

iHave a Horrible Thanksgiving Summary: Based off of the blogs from . Sam has to spend Thanksgiving…with the Bensons! Humoristic two-shot with little splashes of Sam/Freddie (Seddie). A/N: Hey! Cora here! You are now currently viewing my first ever iCarly fanfic!! Woohoo!! I've been an iCarly fan for a long time now and I've had bunches of ideas for iCarly fics but I was looking at the iCarly website and found this and was like, "Oh my gosh! This would be an AWESOME fanfic!" I'm pretty sure someone has done something like this, but trust me, it's nothing like theirs, whoever they are. And if it is, it's not supposed to be. I haven't read theirs. Yah, I know it's kinda late for Thanksgiving, but, too bad! Read anyway! Please? WARNING: Rated T for "boy things." If you catch my drift. Not boy PARTS. Boy things. But read anyway. Please? Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or any of it's characters and my name is not Dan Schneider. --- CHAPTER 1:  
SAM ARRIVES --- SAM'S BLOG (taken from ): Worst Thanksgiving Ever This year, Thanksgiving is going to be HORRIBLE!!!

Get this: My mom decided now would be the perfect time to fly down to Cancun for spring break. Yeah, I know. It's November (NOT SPRING) and my mom is an old lady (NOT A COLLEGE STUDENT!). Normally, I would just go hang out with Carls all week and eat some of Spencer's famous turkey pops (you don't even want to know how he makes them). BUT Carly and Spencer are going up to their grandad's in Yakima for the holiday. So my mom is leaving me with... The Bensons!

Yep, FredWART and his crazy mother! I heard she's already ordered a live turkey and given it a flu shot. She gets a living turkey cause she wants to "prepare" it herself to make sure that there are no added preservatives in her meat. Ugh! :(

I would SOOO much rather be eating turkey legs in the shower like last year. Ahhh... the good ol' days! CLICK HERE and relive the memories.

Sam out.

---

Sam lay draped across the couch inside her house, her long blonde waves nearly touching the floor, laughing at a new iCarly video that had been sent into them on her laptop when she heard the sound of keys jangling. Sam closed the laptop and sat up straight as Andrea Puckett pushed open the door.

Many people had called Andrea beautiful – perhaps that was why she had so many boyfriends. She looked like an older version of Sam, in some ways. She had long, blonde, curly hair and baby blue eyes, and her face was completely unblemished. Her nose exactly matched Sam's. The only thing was, these two didn't get along AT ALL even though they were ABSOLUTELY alike. Both of them loved food, being lazy, and were irresponsible.

"Hey, Mom," said Sam, opening the laptop up again. She had only checked to see if it wasn't her mom's new boyfriend (boyfriend #13 – who she was determined was a psychopath) and closed it just in case she needed her new aluminum bat that had his name written on it.

"Hey, Samantha! Great news!" Andrea beamed – something she rarely did.

Sam sighed and rolled her eyes. "Mom – it's _Sam._"

"I'm going to be going to Cancun tomorrow for Spring break!!" Andrea clapped her hands excitedly, ignoring her daughter's remark.

Sam shut the laptop – for good this time – her eyebrows raised. "Uh, don't you mean _Thanksgiving _break?" she demanded.

"Yes, yes, same thing," Andrea rolled her eyes as if it mattered. "The point is that I get a vacation!"

"Wait – so, what am I supposed to do?" demanded Sam. This Cancun thing was nothing new – Andrea was always entering sweepstakes in the newspapers, radio, and Chinese restaurants and was constantly going on vacation, but she'd never done it during a holiday before and Sam was surprised she had. Her mother loved holidays – "It's a great time to eat, relax, and drink beer" – and was always home during them. Her mom wanted Sam to love them too, but Sam's favorite holiday was the most important one of all – her birthday. She didn't care for the others. But Andrea always made an effort to spend holidays with Sam so she would eventually like them too.

The dilemma was that Sam had no where to go. She would usually crash at Carly's place, but she knew for a fact that Carly was out with her brother over the holidays to visit her grandpa in Yakima, and she and her mother _both _knew it was unsafe to leave Sam at home for five whole days by herself.

"Don't worry, I've scheduled everything," Andrea said, unable to control her excitement. "You're going to be staying with the Bensons!"

Sam jumped and grasped her laptop as it nearly clattered to the floor. Once she had it securely in her lap, she shrieked, "I'm WHAT??"

Andrea shrank back from her daughter's outburst. "It's going to be _fun, _Sam! We always spend the holidays here – wouldn't it be nice for a little change?"

"But – but – why? You're not a college student! You're old!! Only – like – college students get to go to Cancun!!" spluttered Sam in shock.

"No they don't," Andrea corrected her, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Don't be such a _baby _about it, Sam." She rolled her eyes. "It's only 5 days!!"

"Yeah, 5 days of Fredweird and his psycho-path mother!! And I'm _not _being a baby about it!" insisted Sam stubbornly. Then she leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I heard that Fredderly's mom ordered the turkey _live _and then _vaccinated _it for the flu!!"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "I don't give a chiz! Would you rather go stay with Melanie?" Andrea put on a smug smile and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Sam's eyes widened and then narrowed. "You wouldn't."

Andrea smirked evilly. "Oh, I would."

Sam huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Fine. I'll spend Thanksgiving with Fredweird."

Andrea smirked. "Good." She began heading to her room before Sam popped up and said, "One sec."

Andrea turned around. "What?" she asked.

"Can't you take me with you?" Sam begged desperately.

"Sorry, you're not a college student," Andrea mimicked, and then she disappeared into her room.

Sam groaned and banged her head against the sofa.

---

Sam sighed, staring drearily out the window of her mom's blue beetle. She sat in the passenger seat while Andrea Puckett sat in the seat across from her, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a cell phone, talking to her hairdresser, Loretta.

"No, Loretta, not Tuesday – _Wednesday,_" said Andrea. "No – I never said – good God, Lori, he's a monster! – I would _never _marry – I've already been married once, Loretta, I'm not doing it again – I never said _wed! _I said _Wednesday! _– I'm not whispering, you – what? I never said that! Oh you – I'm fed up with this. No, Loretta – NO! – GAWD, LORETTA, GET A HEARING AID!!" Andrea snapped the phone shut, tossing it onto Sam's lap. She stared down at it and sighed.

Her PearPhone buzzed in her back-pocket. She pulled it out and scanned the message:

**Carly: **hey sam. We're leaving 4 yakima rite now. See u Monday! Happy thanksgiving!

**Sam: **lucky u :(

**Carly: **cheer up its only 5 days freddie's not THAT bad

**Sam: **whatev. See u l8r.

**Carly: **see u

Sam put her PearPhone back inside her pocket just as her mom rolled to a stop in the Bushwell Plaza's parking lot. Sam groaned, leaning back and hitting the back of her head on the leather.

"Sam, quit being such a baby and get out of the car," snapped Andrea.

Sam sighed and unbuckled her seat belt, closing the car door with a slam. Andrea's eyes narrowed at her daughter and Sam narrowed her eyes right back.

"Watermelon?" said a hobo with a scratchy voice standing near them. It was missing a lot of teeth and had ragged clothes.

"No, gross!" Andrea slapped the watermelon out of the hobo's hands, who burst into tears and began chasing after it down the street.

"Nice, Mom," said Sam sarcastically, even though that was something exactly like what she would do, and opening the trunk and getting her rolling black suitcase out of it. She threw her duffel bag over her shoulder. Sam gloomily followed her mom into the building.

"Ahh!! People in my lobby! Out! Out! Out!" screamed Lewbert from behind the desk.

"Oh, shut up," grumbled Sam, stepping onto the elevator, Andrea following suit. Sam pressed in the buttons for the right floor and then hesitated, wondering if her mom knew the numbers for the floor as well as she did. She was about to press in an extra number when Andrea said, "Sam," in a stern tone.

"Oh fine," Sam grumbled, retyping the number of the Bensons' floor. The elevator made a grinding noise and then rose up to the exact floor number. Sam stepped out after her mother and sighed as she stood in front of the Bensons' apartment. It was Andrea who rang the doorbell.

_Act cool, act cool, _thought Sam. She didn't want Freddie to think she was just as nervous and angry about this as he was. That showed vulnerability. And Sam _was not _vulnerable.

It was Mrs. Benson who answered the door. In other words, the psychopath.

"Andrea, Samantha!" cried the Psychopath, all fake-smiley. Freddie stood behind her, a look of dread on his face. "How nice to see you!" Her fake smile made Sam want to grimace.

But, two could play at that game. "_Hi, _Mrs. Benson," Sam tried to look as angelic as possible, beaming as hard as she could. Her eyes narrowed on the brunette behind her. "Fred_wart,_" she sneered.

Mrs. Benson's mouth formed into an 'o' shape as she wheeled around to face her son. "I told you so," he mouthed to her. Sam made a face, but they didn't see. Mrs. Benson wheeled back around again, her look of shock replaced with the sufferable fake smile. "Well," she said fake-warmly. "Why don't you come in? It's awfully chilly out there, isn't it?"

Andrea pursed her lips, obviously wondering, _Who says 'awfully chilly' anymore? _But said aloud, "No, I'm almost late for my plane – bye Sam, be good!" she quickly scurried back down the hallway.

Mrs. Benson blinked once and then smiled again. "Well, Sam, com on in."

Freddie cringed out of the way as Sam slowly breezed through the apartment, looking around as if she were inspecting something. Finally she flung her suitcase onto the couch and looked up at the Psychopath. "So…where do I sleep?"

"Oh, you'll be sleeping in Freddie's room," replied the Psychopath non-chalantly.

"_What?_" Freddie shouted, his mouth gaping open. Sam covered her hand to muffle her laughter. "Where the heck am _I _supposed to sleep?"

"On the couch," replied the Psychopath gently. "Calm down, Freddie. It's not that big of a deal. And don't say 'heck.' That's not a nice word."

"You expect me to let _that thing –_" Freddie jabbed a finger at Sam, who pretended to look shocked as she uncovered her hand. "Sleep in my _room?_"

"Yes. I do. And – remove it of any – boy things." The Psychopath wrinkled her nose.

"Aaauuugghhh!!" screamed Freddie, running into his room. He slammed the door behind him. Sam stifled a giggle. Maybe Carly was right – this wouldn't be so bad after all.

---

It was dark outside, but Sam was nowhere near ready to go to sleep. Freddie's bed just felt – too big. Plus, the pillows were really lumpy. Also, the fact that she was sleeping where _Freddie _did made her feel…dirty. Anyway – who could _sleep _when she was in the object of her _annoyance's room??_

First, Sam checked the closet. It was completely bare. _Freddie must've swept all of this out, _she thought.

Next she opened the drawers to his dresser. There were a bunch of clothes in the first drawer, same for the second. In the third –

"Ohmuhgud!" Sam shrieked, jumping away.

Inside was a pile of underwear and –

"I wonder what this is?" Sam tentatively pulled out an object with her thumb and forefinger. Then, "Ohmuhgud! Freddork wears _jock straps!!_" she flung them back into the drawer and slammed in shut, panting in horror, her eyes as wide as saucers. Then she burst into laughter and snatched a lumpy pillow off of Freddie's bed to muffle it.

Deciding that she was through with drawers for good, she checked under his bed. She wasn't sure why – but it felt like a place that someone like Fredweird would keep stuff. And she was right. Despite a few dust bunnies, there was a medium-sized box. Sam pulled it out and opened the lid, leaning back, half expecting to find a pile of jock straps.

Instead, she found a bunch of what looked like blank pieces of paper. Sam pulled them out – but they were photographs. Photographs of –

Carly. _Who else?_

Sam rolled her eyes, making faces of pictures of Carly, Freddie and Carly, and there _was _a picture of all three of them but half of Sam was missing.

Sam tossed them aside, rolling her eyes. _Leave it to Freddie to leave his special stuff inside his room with his worst enemy. _Then she corrected herself. _No, leave it to Freddie to have pictures of CARLY under his bed. What a nub._

She turned her attention back to the box…and let out a soft squeal of excitement.

Inside was a leather book with a seven-letter word printed across the front –

JOURNAL.

Without even hesitating or thinking twice, Sam made a grab for it and opened it to the very first page. It read:

_January 10__th__, 2009_

_Dear Journal,_

_Hey. I'm Fredward Benson – but only my mom and Sam call me that. (More about them later). I go by Freddie – and Freddie _only. _I mean, who likes the name Fredward? Nobody._

_And before you start thinking about how gay or prissy it is that a GUY is writing a JOURNAL – let me tell you this. This was _not _my idea. _I _would _never_ write in a journal. It's all my stupid mom's fault._

_Ever since we started iCarly (more about that later) almost three years ago, my mom says that I've been too concealed and stuff and that my grades are dropping (not true) and I need to express myself more freely. So she gave me…_

_This. _

_Or – you._

_What the heck? I'm talking to a journal like it's a real _person!

_Anyway – I'm not happy about this at all. In fact, I'll probably hardly NEVER write in this. This is probably going to be the only entry. So, have fun._

_Anyway – oh yeah, iCarly. iCarly is this web show that I do with Carly Shay (who is my future girlfriend and lives in the apartment across from me) and Sam Puckett (who is my "friend" and teases me and pushes me around all the time). Carly (the namesake of the show – which I came up with, BTW) and Sam are the hosts while I'm the tech-producer. Sometimes it's kinda weird hanging out with girls a lot…but you get used to it. And, technically – Sam's not really a girl…well she is…but she doesn't act like one. You know what I mean?_

_Of course you don't. You're just a book._

_Anyway, the web show is really popular and we have thousands of viewers that watch from . We shoot live videos every Thursday plus we have extra segments we add on sometimes too. And it's been great, us, just working together by ourselves. Except for the fact that Sam is an obnoxious bully and Carly hasn't realized that she loves me as much as I love her…well, that will happen soon. Sam, on the other hand – not so sure. I don't know _why _she does it – but it's really annoying._

_Well. I guess that's it. Uh – bye._

Despite his promise, there were many more entries after that, mostly full of gushing about Carly. Sam ripped most of the entries out, just to irk him. She wondered what would happen if he found out…the thought made her smirk.

His diary was full of mostly nonsense, no secrets, no nothing. _Well, he is a boy, _Sam thought to herself. But she didn't write any secrets in her journal.

Not that she…like…had one or anything.

Finally, Sam picked up a pen and wrote on the next available page,

_Dear Diary,_

_Hi, I'm Fredward Nub Benson and I'm a frickin' retard!!_

_I looooovveee yooouuuu, diary. You're my BEST friend!!_

_And guess what? I just accepted the fact that Carly will never, ever, ever, ever, ever love me and have decided to stop loving her and I think Carly is very glad. I don't think she ever would have loved me anyway._

_I have meltdowns every time I pee in my pants! Whoops, I did it again! Gotta go, bye!!_

_Well, nighty night diary. I looove you. Not Carly. Yooou._

_~*~ -----Fredward Nub-hole Benson----- ~*~_

Satisfied, Sam shut the book and shoved it and the photos back into the box and shoved it back under the bed. Finally, she slid into bed, a huge grin on her face.

Suddenly she heard a growling noise coming from the corner of the room. Most people would be scared, but not Sam. "Oops! I almost forgot!" the teen scurried over to where she had put her suitcase and opened it up. Out flopped Frothy, her rabid gray tabby cat. Sam grinned. "Hey, Frothy," she coaxed it. She was the only person that Frothy didn't hiss at. Frothy padded over to Sam and deposited itself in Sam's lap as she coaxed it into sleep. Then she set it at the foot of Freddie's bed and slipped back under the scratchy seats.

Carly was right. This _was_ going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2: A Pranksgiving

**iHave a Horrible Thanksgiving**

**A/N: **Welcome to chapter two!! Hope you enjoy!! :) What are you doing just standing there? READ!!! This chapter is longer than the other one, BTW.

WARNING: Rated T for the mentioning of "boy stuff." NOT "boy parts." Boy STUFF. But read anyway.

**Disclaimer: **I'm not Dan Schneider – I don't own iCarly or any of its characters.

**---**

**CHAPTER 2: A PRANKSGIVING**

**FREDDIE'S BLOG (taken from ):**

How Sam ruined our Thanksgiving!

Hey, Freddie here! Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving! I had a weird one!

If you read Sam's Blog last week you know that Sam came over to our house for Thanksgiving. If you haven't read her Blog yet, CLICK HERE.

For starters, even though Sam knows my mom is VERY allergic to cats, she still snuck her deranged cat named Frothy into our house. Not only was my mom sneezing all day, but Frothy decided to use the platter of stuffing for its own personal litter box. Gross.

Then, my mom and I went to the store to pick up a few ingredients for dinner and left Sam alone with the turkey (big mistake, btw). When we got home, the only thing left of the turkey was the gizzard. Sam doesn't eat gizzards. Instead, she put it on my grandma's face when she fell asleep on the couch.

Finally, we had dinner, which was okay actually, except we didn't have a turkey, or stuffing, and we found a piece of Sam's chewed up gum in the green bean casserole.

After dinner, Sam offered to do the dishes, but 15 minutes into it she got bored and just threw away all of the dishes.

You'd think that was enough -- but then Sam invited a bunch of hobos up for dessert!

Good times. (Not really!)

---

"Wake _up, _Freddie!" sang a voice in the brunette's ear.

"Uhm…" Freddie rolled over on the couch, pressing his face against the scratchy material.

"Ohh Freddie," said the voice. "Wake _up!_"

"Uhm…" Freddie repeated, rolling back over. He was mostly awake now, but his eyes refused to open. "Carly?"

There was a pause, then, "Uh-huh. I have something to tell you, Freddie!!" sang the voice.

"What?" giggled Freddie, suddenly feeling very giddy. Perhaps it had to do with that tickling at his toes.

"I _looooove _you, Freddie. _Looooove _you."

"I knew it!" Freddie cried, bolting upright off the couch – he gave out a yelp as he felt himself fall over and land on the hardwood floor. "Ohh," he moaned, sitting up and nearly banging himself on the coffee table. But he hardly cared. "Carly –"

He shook into focus a blonde girl standing superiorly over him, as if she had one something, a wide grin spread across her face. "Ahh!" Freddie screamed, backing up and hitting his back against the loveseat. "You're not Carly!" Freddie finally found the energy to jump up, pointing an accusing finger at the blonde-headed demon.

"No dip, Sherlock," Sam rolled her eyes, snatching up a pillow and hitting him with it. She tossed it to the ground and added, "And I'll never love you. _And,_" she added, skipping off to the kitchen. "Neither will Carly!" She grinned at him and then opened the fridge. "Hey, you got any chili?" she asked.

"Wait – what – who?" mumbled Freddie, shaking his head. What on earth was Sam doing in his house? Then it dawned on him – she was staying. For the entire week. Freddie moaned again and banged his head (purposefully) against the edge of the couch.

"Hey! Freddork! Do – you – have – any – chili?" Sam stood, her hip propping open the fridge, her hand on her other hip, her eyebrows arched.

"No, we don't have any chili! My mom's a vegetarian, remember?" Freddie picked the pillow off the floor and gave a sideways glance at Sam, wondering what would happen if he threw it at her. _I'd get my face broken._ Sighing, Freddie tossed the pillow back onto the couch and traveled over to the kitchen. "And we don't have any sweets either, just in case your wondering," Freddie added as Sam's mouth opened and then shut again.

Sam made a face. "Your mom sucks." She began rooting through the closet while Freddie pulled open the floorboard on the kitchen floor and pulled out a box of Lucky Charms. He washed his hands and opened the bag, sticking in a hand and munching on the fist-full.

"Do I smell…?" Sam began, and wheeled around. She gasped. "What?" she dashed towards Freddie but Freddie quickly held the box behind his back. "I thought your mom doesn't let you have sweets!"

"She doesn't," Freddie said through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. "Secret stash."

Sam lifted an eyebrow, but then any signs of respect disappeared and Sam snatched the box from his hands. "I love these," she said as she munched greedily.

Freddie opened his mouth to say "me too" but then remembered that he didn't like Sam and wanted her to get out as soon as possible and shut it again, snatching the box back. "Hey!" cried Sam, a few mini-marshmallows falling onto the hardwood floor.

"I had it first." Freddie stuffed a handful inside his mouth.

"Too bad!" Sam snatched the box back and dug her hands inside, shaking some of the contents onto the floor.

"Don't stuff your dirty fists in it!" Freddie snatched the box back, staring at it in disgust. "This is my last box and my mom's not going to let me go back to the grocery store in a long time! Do you know what it's like having _tofu sausages _every morning?"

"My hands aren't dirty," Sam insisted, tugging the box towards her, ignoring his last remark.

"What do _you _call dirty? They look like you've been digging for earthworms and then spat on your hands and rubbed them together." Freddie yanked the box, holding it over his head so Sam wouldn't reach it. It was an exaggeration, but a good one. Feeling superior, he added, "I bet you haven't washed them in at least a decade!"

"Nuh-uh! They're clean! I washed them yesterday morning!" Sam jumped up and grabbed the box, sticking her hand back in.

"Gross, Sam!" Freddie snatched the box again, darting it away from her grasp.

"Is not you nub!" Sam grabbed the box from his hands, covering her wet and sticky ones all over it.

"Nub? We said that when we were fourteen. It's lame." Freddie grabbed the box again.

"Not as lame as what I found in your drawers!" Sam grabbed one end of the box.

Freddie tugged on his end of the box and then froze, his face pale. What was in his drawers?

Just then the box ripped in half and its entire contents spilled all over the hardwood floor. Freddie and Sam both dropped the box in surprise.

"Oh, great. Now look what you've done, Benson!" Sam shoved him against the counter.

"_Me!_" Freddie cried. "You're the one that grabbed the frickin' box in the first place! This is your fault! If my mom sees this –"

"Oh relax, Fredweird, she left for work early today," Sam waved her hand. Freddie sighed with relief and began stooping on the floor and picking up handful by handful of cereal. "Are you gonna help or what?" Freddie snapped at Sam.

Sam raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised by his attitude, but then snapped back, "Why should I?" but still she stooped down and began scooping them up. When she thought Freddie wasn't looking she would eat some of them off the ground, making Freddie make a face in disgust.

Finally, they were finished. Sam stood up, wiping the cereal off of her jeans. "Well," she said finally. "I'm off to watch TV."

"Hey!" Freddie called to her. She whirled around. "_What?_" she demanded. "The cereal's –"

"Not that," Freddie snapped. "Uh…" his face went red. "Uh…what…exactly…is in my drawers?" Sam beamed like the angelic angel she _wasn't._

"Oh, nothing." She said in a fake-sweet voice, and skipped over to the couch where she grabbed the remote. Without hesitating, Freddie raced towards his room, threw open the door, and yanked the drawers open. He groaned as he saw the underwear and the jockstrap in the third drawer.

In the living room, he heard Sam laugh just as his PearPhone buzzed.

**Carly: **hey. How's it going w/ sam?

He hesitated. He couldn't tell her about the jock strap incident. That would be way too embarrassing!

**Freddie: **terrible. She's driving me insane!

**Carly: **oh, c'mon. sam's not that bad. Who knows? U might have fun this week.

**Freddie: **sure.

**Carly: **g2g. Bye!

**Freddie: **bye

Freddie sighed, shaking his head at his phone. Why did have Carly have to go to Yakima now? Sam wouldn't be this difficult at her house, he knew. Sighing, he stuffed the PearPhone in his pocket and turned around.

"_Mrrroooooww!!_"

"AHHHH!" Freddie screamed as a small but furry figure latched itself onto Freddie's face, digging it's claws into his face. "HELP! HELP! HELP! I'M BEING ATTACK – AUGGGGGHHH!!! GET IT OFF!! GET IT OFF!!"

Sam burst into the room. "DUDE!" she shouted. "I'm _trying _to watch _Celebrities Underwater!! _Could you keep it down?"

"SAM!" Freddie screamed through the fur as his face felt like it was being ripped off. "HELP ME!!"

Sam sighed impatiently. "Fine." With a howl of pain from Freddie, she ripped the creature off of Freddie's face. Freddie dashed to the mirror to examine his face – there were a few scars around the sides of his face, his hair was extremely tousled, and he looked like he belonged in an insane asylum, but other than that, he was fine.

"Aww…poor little Froth-Froth. Did wittle Fweddie scare you?" Sam cooed. Freddie wheeled around to see the creature held securely in Sam's arms. It purred contentedly as Sam continued to soothe it – as if _it _was the one that had been attacked. "Sam –" Freddie gasped. "What – _is _that?"

"This?" Sam looked up, turning the creature around so that it could see Freddie. It hissed menacingly and Freddie jumped half-a-step backwards – but at least now he could tell that it was a cat. Or – it looked like it was _supposed _to be a cat. "You've met Frothy before, haven't you?" she glanced at the monster in her arms. "Maybe you haven't. This, Freddork, is Frothy."

"Th-that's your _cat?_" Freddie demanded, snorting. "I think he's been eating too much Big Macs from McDonald's."

Sam grinned. "Those are his favorites."

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Hang on a second – what is he doing here?" he demanded.

"Well, wittle Sammy couldn't leave him home all alone by himself, could she? Ah, no-no-no. Ah, no-no-no." Sam ruffled the cat's fur even more so.

"But – my mom's allergic to cats." Freddie reminded her.

Sam grinned again. "I know."

"So the cat has to go."

"No he doesn't."

"But –" Freddie began.

"Oh, your mom can deal with it," Sam said, waving her free hand as if it was no big deal. "Sam!" Freddie shouted. "What?" Sam asked, doing her best to look innocent. "You wouldn't happen to have any bacon, would you? Froth-Froth _loves _bacon."

Freddie groaned and banged his head on the dresser, thinking about Carly's text. Fun? Yeah, right.

---

It was the dreaded day. The day that Freddie had been dreading all week. _Thanksgiving._

Freddie knew as soon as he woke up that morning it was going to be a disaster – after all, the whole week had been a disaster, too. First, when his mom had gotten home, she had absolutely _freaked _upon seeing "Froth-Froth" and nearly had a heart-attack, but when she realized Frothy would have to _stay _since there was no place to go, she fainted. But it was only for about five minutes, and neither of them were very worried. Freddie's mom fainted on a regular basis, most of the time.

But then the next day, Frothy used their new rug in Mom's room as a litter box and left a present for his mom in her shoe, which she found when she went out to buy groceries later that afternoon, which, of course, made her faint again.

Then, after Mom had gotten all the food after she cleaned out Frothy's present and went to the grocery store, she left the stuffing platter on the kitchen table and Frothy used _that _for a litter box, which meant no stuffing for Thanksgiving. Plus, Mrs. Benson had been sneezing nonstop ever since the cat arrived.

But Thanksgiving was the day that Freddie had been truly dreading. What would Sam do with his _relatives _when they were over?

Freddie had never much liked his small-sized family get-togethers, which only included his grandma who was always falling asleep and forgetting things, his Aunt Melinda who was always smacking gum that made Freddie want to cringe, his uncle who was always giving him a slap on the back (which really hurt cuz Uncle Terrence had a lot of muscles), his other aunt, Aunt Jessica, who was exactly like his mother and jumped at every little thing, and Aunt Melinda and Uncle Terrence's two kids, Lara and David, who were always clinging onto Freddie and squishing themselves into his lap and demanding to be picked up or to be played with. And Aunt Melinda and Uncle Terrence encouraged it. And he knew that it he found his family annoying, Sam certainly would. And Sam was not a happy camper when she was annoyed. He ought to know.

So you could probably guess that Freddie had a hard time getting himself out of bed that morning – but he did before Sam could come and prank him while he was vulnerable. He fixed himself some breakfast (tofu sausage. Ugh. But it was all Sam's fault for tearing his cereal, and there was nothing left in his secret stash) and got his clothes out from under the sofa to change into them in his mom's bathroom (which Sam was not allowed in.)

By the time he was done, Sam was already in the kitchen, her hair damp from taking a shower. (It had greatly surprised Freddie when he found out she actually bathed). Opening and closing cupboards, Sam sighed impatiently. "Why is your mom so _weird,_" she moaned as she sat down to examine a tofu sausage and then set it down in disgust. "You have _no _food," she told him.

"Well, I would," Freddie snapped. "If _someone _hadn't _ripped _my cereal." He glared at the blonde-headed demon as she nibbled a little bit of the tofu sausage.

Sam made a face in disgust and launched it into the trashcan. "Oh, stop blaming me for your clumsiness," Sam said, waving a hand at him. "I hope your mom cooks good for Thanksgiving." Just then the doorbell rang. "Who's that?" she asked, peering around him and at the door.

_Is the family here already? _Freddie's face turned white. "Uh…no one," he stammered.

Sam picked up a tofu sausage and pointed it at him threateningly. "You know I don't like being lied to, Fredwart. Now who's that at the door?"

"None of your business, Sam!" Freddie shouted at her, trying to block her view from the door. "Fine." Sam grinned fake-sweetly. "Let's just go answer it." She scraped her chair back and stood up, making her way towards the door.

"Wait. No! Sam!" Freddie launched himself towards the door and positioned himself in front of it. "It's nobody!" The doorbell rang again.

Sam scowled at the brunette. "Out of my way!" she shoved Freddie and he grasped the wall to keep from falling – but it was too late. Sam had already opened the door. Freddie moved in the doorway behind her to find his grandmother standing there – as expected. Freddie groaned.

"Go away, we don't want your Girl Sprout cookies," Sam snapped at the older woman, and slammed the door shut.

"Sam!" Freddie shouted, shoving the blonde out of the way. "That was my grandma!"

"Don't shove me!" Sam shoved him back. Fighting, the two of them struggled to answer the door while shoving each other to the side. Freddie managed to grasp the knob and yank it open. "Hello, Grandma," Freddie said, smiling casually and leaning against the doorframe.

The elderly lady smiled back. "Hello, Frances." She stepped into the room and waddled taking a fourth-of-a-step at a time.

"Frances?" Sam hissed to Freddie.

"She's old. She forgets things," Freddie hissed back. Grandma turned around and Freddie's annoyed look was replaced with a smile.

"Who – who's that?" Grandma Benson pointed a shaky finger towards the blonde standing next to her grandson. "Lucy? Is that you?" Sam raised an eyebrow at the brunette. _Lucy? _Her eyes asked. Freddie shrugged.

"Oh, no, no, no," Grandma Benson shook her little head. "Never mind. Lucy died tomorrow." Sam and Freddie exchanged confused glances again. "You must be Frances's girlfriend!!" Grandma Benson clapped her shaky hands together. "How wonderful."

Freddie's face went as red as a tomato, but Sam just laughed. "Me? Freddork? Girlfriend? Ha! In his dreams and my nightmares!"

"Mom?" Mrs. Benson stepped out of her bedroom, wearing a pink bathrobe, her hair looking a little frazzled. "Ahh! Margaret!" cried Grandma Benson, shuffling forward in fourth-steps. "So nice to see you, love!"

Mrs. Benson sighed. "Mom, its Marissa, remember?" But she leaned down to hug her withered old mother. "Nice to see you, too. But what are you doing here so early? You're two hours early."

"Better late than never, they always say," chuckled Grandma Benson, sounding like someone from an insane asylum.

"Your grandma's weird," Sam hissed to the brunette standing next to her. "No chiz," Freddie hissed back.

Mrs. Benson looked up and seemed to notice the two teens for the first time. "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry. Meet Sam, Freddie's friend."

Both Sam and Freddie hid a snort. Friend? Yeah, right.

"Hello, Teresa. Nice to meet you," the elderly woman said to the blonde, shaking her hand.

"Uh…yeah…" Sam said slowly. "Right…" Freddie hid a smirk.

"Well, since we've all introduced ourselves, why don't we get you something to eat. Freddie, would you –" Mrs. Benson began, but a noise cut her off.

"_Mrrooooww!!_"

Freddie ducked just in time as a mass of fur flew over their heads and latched itself onto Grandma Benson's face, causing everyone in the room to scream, even Sam. "FROTHY!" she yelled.

"What's that damn cat doing in here?" screamed Mrs. Benson, causing Freddie's eyes to go wide. His mom had never cussed in his entire life.

"HELP! HELP! GET IT OFF OF ME!" screamed Grandma Benson as the cat thrashed wildly against her withered face.

"Oh my good Lord!" cried Mrs. Benson, slapping her hand against her mouth. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell against the floor. Once again, she had fainted, for the third time that week.

"Don't just stand there!" Freddie screamed at Sam, who stood rigid to the spot. "Do something!"

"Uh…okay, okay," Sam said, wringing her palms as if under pressure. "Uh…here, Frothy! Here, kitty, kitty!! C'mere!!" She threw a helpless glance at Freddie, who shrugged in return. "Hey! Look! Frothy! There's Freddie! Why don't you attack him for a while?"

"What? Sam, no – AUGGGH!" Freddie screamed as the cat latched itself onto Freddie's arm, gnawing on it with pleasure. "SAM YOU ARE SUCH A –" Freddie desperately searched for a word to say. "NUB!!!" he shouted finally.

Sam grinned. "I know." She disappeared into Freddie's room again and returned with his Spiderman wallet. "Well, I'm off to buy some food that's actually _good._ Later."

"SAM! SAM! NO, WAIT!! COME BACK!! I WAS JUST KIDDING! YOU'RE NOT A NUB, REALLY, YOU'RE – AUUUUGH!" the teeth and claws sank deeper into Freddie's arm and he thrashed it around, trying to get it off. Finally he succeeded in flinging it against the wall, where it hissed and slinked back into Freddie's room. He moved over to his grandma, who was lying on the ground, motionless except for her chest rising and falling. Luckily, she only had a bruise on the side of her face, and nothing was bleeding. "Uh…grandma?" Freddie asked, snapping his fingers in front of her face. "Are you –?"

"Hi-YA!" Grandma Benson jumped up and kicked Freddie in the stomach, knocking him against the other end of the wall, where he groaned in pain. His thigh felt kind of tender. Freddie sighed, closing his eyes and wishing he could just disappear.

Yeah. Thanksgiving sure was fun.

---

After Mrs. Benson had woken up, she helped Freddie with his wounds and laid Grandma Benson on the couch, who immediately took a nap. Then they both went out to get Sam, who they found at the Inside Out Burger, a hamburger and soda in her hands. They made her come back to the house and get the cat out of the house, so she put it in Lewbert's office since he was on vacation that day. When they got back, they cleaned up the mess that had been made in the living room, checked on Grandma Benson, and Freddie and his mom began getting the food ready for the guests while Sam lounged on the loveseat (the couch was occupied by Grandma Benson), watching TV.

"That girl is an absolute menace!" Mrs. Benson hissed to her son as she got the turkey out of the oven.

"What did I tell you?" Freddie snapped, rolling his eyes as he wiped off the kitchen counter.

"I don't know if I can stand living with her for the rest of the weekend," she sighed, shaking her head. "She's totally out of control!"

"Exactly," Freddie said. "She's always like this."

"Well," Mrs. Benson sighed. "Maybe having the cat out of the house will take care of things." Freddie raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He knew that the cat had little to do with it. Sam was just crazy. There was no other word to describe her. He couldn't believe his mom had actually invited her to spend the week with them. What had she been thinking?

"Oh, no," gasped Mrs. Benson. She turned to face her son. "I forgot to get the pie yesterday! We're going to have to go to the grocery store again. Oh well. I needed to get a few ingredients anyway. Freddie, why don't you stay here and –"

"Uh, actually, I was wondering if I could come with you." Freddie said, draping the dishrag over the faucet. The thought of him and Sam alone in his apartment made him cringe. (Grandma Benson didn't count, since she was asleep and there was no telling when she'd wake up.)

"Fine," Mrs. Benson said impatiently, throwing her pocketbook over her shoulder. "Uh, Sam, honey, we're going to the grocery store to get the dessert. If any of the relatives show up, please let them in, 'kay?"

"Sure," Sam said, her eyes glued to the TV screen. A new episode of _Girly Cow _was on.

Freddie couldn't help but smile as he slid into the passenger seat of his mom's car. _Finally _he could get away from the evil demon, even if he had to spend time with his over protective mom to do it.

Buying the groceries (which was pie and some seasonings) didn't take too long, unfortunately, so minutes later the two were returning home from Hey Food. Freddie was surprised that the apartment was still intact when they walked back in. "We're back," said Mrs. Benson, hanging her pocketbook up on the coat rack. "Has anyone gotten here?" she asked Sam, who was still sitting on the loveseat just like they left them.

"No, but some ladies came saying they were your sisters, but they smelled like imposters to me. Plus they had a man and two little twerps with them." Sam said, her eyes still focused on the TV.

Freddie and Mrs. Benson exchanged glances. "Wait – what did they look like?" demanded Mrs. Benson, looking aggravated. "The women?" she asked. "You. But, I told you, they were definitely imposters."

"Sam!" cried Mrs. Benson, holding her head in her hands. "That _was _my sister. And that man was her husband and those 'two twerps' were her kids!"

"Oh." Sam shrugged. "Whoops. What did you get for dessert?" her eyes finally turned away from the TV.

Mrs. Benson shut her eyes tight like she was trying to wish herself away and they flew open. "I'm going to be in my room. Freddie, fix the dessert please." She massaged her temples as she headed off to her room like she had a headache.

Freddie sighed but secretly, he was glad. That meant five less relatives wouldn't be coming. He was almost grateful for Sam, until he remembered the cat incident, then he changed his mind. Freddie sighed, and heading into the kitchen and pulling out the frozen pie. Reading the directions, he popped it into the microwave and turned to the table, where the food was. Mashed potatoes, check, gravy, check, green beans, check, turkey –

Hang on a sec. Where was the turkey?

_Sam._

Freddie rushed back into the living room. "Sam, what did you – gross!" Freddie glanced down at the couch and noticed a gizzard on top of his grandma's face. "Sam! What did you do?"

Sam looked up at him, shrugging. "I got hungry."

Freddie peeled the gizzard off of his grandma's face and held it up as if it were evidence, an accusing look on his face. "What?" Sam demanded. "I don't like gizzards."

"So you stuck it on my –" Freddie began, but Sam cut him off. "Hey, is the pie done yet?" she asked. Freddie sighed. "Yes. The pie is ready."

"Finally." Sam jumped up and trooped into the kitchen. Freddie tossed the gizzard into the trash can, shaking his head in disgust. Freddie beat her to the microwave, pulling out the apple pie and setting it on the table.

"Hello, Freddie," said Mrs. Benson wearily, walking back into the room. "Sam." She said stiffly. "Is the food ready?" she asked, walking over to stand by Sam and Freddie by the kitchen table.

"Uh, yeah," Freddie said, pulling some plates out of the cupboard and stacking them on the kitchen table. "All set."

"Good, mama's hungry!" Sam rubbed her hands together eagerly and grabbed a seat closest to the gravy.

"Okay." Mrs. Benson grabbed the silverware and set it down on the table. "Hang on. Where's the turkey?" she asked, pointing to an empty platter.

"Don't ask," Freddie replied, shooting an angry look at Sam, who simply smirked in reply.

Mrs. Benson opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but then she closed it again. "Okay. Is Mom still asleep?" Freddie and Sam nodded. "She can eat later. Let's not wake her up. Now, let's all hold hands –"

"Uh, why?" demanded Sam, lifting an eyebrow and staring at Sam and Mrs. Benson weirdly.

"We're saying grace, Sam," said Mrs. Benson impatiently.

Sam gingerly grabbed Freddie and Mrs. Benson's hands, causing Freddie to turn beet red, but he tried not to think about that. "Dear God, thank you for all that you've blessed us with on this fine Thanksgiving day. Amen." Mrs. Benson said.

Sam quickly yanked her hands away and jumped into her seat, eagerly waiting to be fed. _And please send Sam far, far away, _Freddie thought desperately as he slid into the seat across from his mom.

Dinner was particularly silent, and it was easy to tell Sam didn't like the dinner as much as she hoped she would. However, dinner tasted better than last year's, even though there was no turkey or stuffing and Sam stuck her gum in the green bean casserole when Freddie's mom wasn't looking. When they were done, Sam blew both of them away by speaking up and saying, "Can I wash the dishes?"

"Wh-why – why of course you can, Sam," said Mrs. Benson, smiling warmly. "That would mean a lot to me."

Sam scraped her chair back and picked up the plates, washing them with soap and rag. Freddie went into the den to catch the last few minutes of _Girly Cow _while Mrs. Benson supervised. It was obvious she didn't think Sam would do a good job. But Freddie didn't care. All he wanted was for this week to be _over._

"_Sam!_" shouted Mrs. Benson from the kitchen.

Freddie groaned. _What now? _He sighed and stood up, walking back into the kitchen. "What happened?" he groaned.

One clean dish stood on the counter. The other two were in fragments inside the trash bag. Sam stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, a bored expression on her face while Mrs. Benson looked outraged.

"What?" demanded Sam, raising an eyebrow.

"You – you – you just threw away my dishes!" cried Mrs. Benson. "Those were _expensive!_"

Sam shrugged. "I got bored." She said.

Mrs. Benson sighed rubbing her temples again, and wheeled around, silently walking away. Sam turned to Freddie, who was leaning against the doorframe. "Hey, can you guys save dessert for me? I wanna go check on Frothy."

"Sam, you're not allowed to bring that monster back inside the house," Freddie reminded her, arms folded across his chest.

"I won't! Gosh, don't get your antibacterial underwear all in a bunch," Sam snapped as she headed out the door.

"I STOPPED WEARING THOSE!" Freddie shouted as the door slammed shut. It was a lie, but who cared?

"I'm back." Mrs. Benson once again walked back into the room. "Where'd Sam go?" she asked, after looking around.

"She went to go check on Frothy," Freddie said.

"Thank the Lord," Mrs. Benson said wearily, sounding extremely grateful. "I'll cut up the pie. We'll eat it when we get back." Mrs. Benson took the knife out of the cupboard and began slicing the pie into portions. Freddie rolled his eyes. He hated how his mom didn't trust him enough to use pointy things.

Freddie sat in his chair at the kitchen table, glad to enjoy the peace and quiet, when he heard an unfamiliar voice come from the living room, saying, "Hey? What's that I smell?"

"Smells like some good 'ole pie!" cried a strong Southern accent.

Throwing each other confused glances, Freddie and his mom wheeled around to see five dirty looking men trooping into the living room, Sam leading the way. Mrs. Benson gasped and grasped the chair, placing a hand over her heart. Sam smirked and stood beside them at the kitchen table, the men right behind her. "What up, peeps?"

"Sam –" gasped Mrs. Benson. "Who – are – they?"

"These guys?" Sam turned to look at them. "I found these hoboes outside in the parking lot."

"Hoboes?" repeated Mrs. Benson, sounding aghast.

The hobo in the front grinned. "We like to refer to ourselves as HSE."

"HS?" repeated Mrs. Benson, her face pale white.

"It means 'homeless scavenger explorers'," hissed the hobo in front into Mrs. Benson's face. "Oh, Lord!" she gasped, waving her hand in front of her face as if to wave away the smell.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am," said the hobo. "Haven't showered in about a week."

"Oh, Lord!" she repeated, grasping the chair she was holding onto with two hands.

"Sam, what the heck are they doing here?" demanded Freddie. "You said you were going to check on Frothy!"

"I did," Sam replied. "But then I saw these guys out the window and invited them in for pie. You don't mind do you?" she asked Mrs. Benson.

Mrs. Benson gasped again, blinking her eyes rapidly as if to stay conscious. "No. Of – course – not –" she gasped, smiling weakly.

Sam turned back to Freddie, a broad grin on her face. "See?"

"You – you –" Freddie stuttered, trying to find the right word.

"Oh yeah, we're going to need some more plates," Sam added, pointing at the single plate on the counter.

"Sure." Freddie smile fake-like. "Of course." He pulled out seven extra plates from the cupboard and set them on the table – hard. He was surprised that they didn't break. All of the hoboes squeezed around the table, laughing and yelling and smelling like fresh garbage with a side of alcohol.

"You're insane," Freddie hissed to Sam as she pulled a piece of pie onto her plate. Mrs. Benson sat across from them, smiling so fake-like that she looked eerie. "Am I?" Sam lifted an eyebrow as she raised her fork to dig in.

"Yes. You are." Freddie snapped.

Sam swallowed the piece of pie and grinned. "I know."

---

The house felt empty, and it made Freddie feel glad. The hoboes had left and Grandma Benson had woken up only minutes ago, babbling about the British Parliament and how she was going to miss the meeting and had sped quickly away. Mrs. Benson had returned once again to her room, and Freddie wouldn't be surprised if she never came back.

That just left him and Sam, Sam lounging across the couch and Freddie sitting on the loveseat. Sam rubbed her tummy. "Man, I love pie," she sighed. Freddie didn't answer – he was trying to ignore her. Maybe if he did that, then she would get bored and leave and never come back. Though he doubted that would happen. "Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Sam asked, glancing at Freddie, a broad grin spread across her face.

"Yeah," Freddie said sarcastically. "Good times." _Not really, _he thought to himself.

Sam tossed a pillow at him. "Oh, lighten up," she said. A smirk appeared on her lips. "You have to admit it was funny. 'Hobos?'" Sam mimicked Mrs. Benson. Freddie bit his lip as hard as he could until he tasted blood to keep from laughing.

But Sam wouldn't stop there. "'Oh good Lord! Get that damn cat out of here!'" she giggled to herself.

Pretty soon, Freddie was laughing, himself, but then he put on a straight face. "Haha," he said sarcastically. "Very funny." He tossed the pillow back at her.

"You were laughing," Sam reminded him, chucking the pillow back.

Pretty soon, it was an all-out pillow fight and by the time it was done the two "enemies" were laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. But it didn't end there. The jokes and the imitations of Freddie's mom and other people they knew began, and pretty soon, Freddie's ribs were caving and tears were swimming down Sam's face. "Okay," Freddie gasped with laughter. "Okay. Stop. We're going to wake my mom up."

"Who cares?" demanded Sam, but they stopped and picked up the remote to watch TV. _Girly Cow _was still on – there was a Thanksgiving marathon. Freddie moved over to sit beside Sam and they watched, occasionally cracking jokes or commenting on the show. Finally, they started to yawn.

"Well," Sam said, standing up and switching the TV off. "I'm gonna go to bed. 'Night, Freddork," she said as she tossed the remote onto the couch as Freddie began to lie down across it.

Freddie rolled his eyes. "'Night, Puckett."

Sam smirked. "Happy Thanksgiving."

Freddie rolled his eyes again. "Sure. You too."

Finally Sam walked out of the den and into Freddie's room, closing the door behind her. Freddie snuggled into the couch. There were two more days ahead of them, but he was sure the worst was over. He could see clear skies from now on.

---

Freddie was right. The last two days were filled without any deadly pranks from Sam. (Except she did put some fake poop in his mom's bed and on his couch. Freddie handled it well. His mom however did not.) Still, Freddie was glad when Mrs. Puckett finally came to take Sam back home. Once again, he was blown away by how astounding she looked.

"Bye, Fredweird," Sam said as they stood in the doorway. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure," said Freddie, eager to get her out. "Bye, Puckett."

Finally the two left, and Freddie sighed in relief and rushed into his room, flopping onto the bed with joy. He had his room back! First, he examined it inch for inch, just to make sure Sam hadn't booby trapped it or Frothy hadn't left him a "present." The room was spotless – strange, but Freddie tried to push that thought aside.

After closing the door, he reached under his bed to pull out his box of important items. They were spotless, too. Freddie sighed in relief. He guessed Sam hadn't looked under the bed, after all. He sifted through his photos, just to make sure, and then got out his journal. Funny, it was surprisingly light – that's when he realized that most of the pages were ripped out. _Oh, no._

He quickly turned to the last page.

_Dear Diary,_

_Hi, I'm Fredward Nub Benson and I'm a frickin' retard!!_

_I looooovveee yooouuuu, diary. You're my BEST friend!!_

_And guess what? I just accepted the fact that Carly will never, ever, ever, ever, ever love me and have decided to stop loving her and I think Carly is very glad. I don't think she ever would have loved me anyway._

_I have meltdowns every time I pee in my pants! Whoops, I did it again! Gotta go, bye!!_

_Well, nighty night diary. I looove you. Not Carly. Yooou._

_~*~ -----Fredward Nub-hole Benson----- ~*~_

But that wasn't all. On the back, in Sam's messy handwriting, was another message:

_OMG! I'm in Fredweird's diary! O.O_

_You know, I'll admit, at first, I wasn't thrilled about having to spend Thanksgiving break with you at all. But – it's been kinda fun. It's really fun messing with you, haha. :)_

_So – happy Thanksgiving, Freddork!_

_~ Sam_

_(P.S. Don't forget your jock strap. ;) )_

"SAAAAM!!!!!"

---

**A/N: **Well, there it is! The final chapter :) Sorry it was real long, but I had to fit all of it in, no? So, what'd you think? Like it, hate it? Please leave a review!! I'll love you forever!! And thanks for reading my FIRST EVER iCarly fanfic!!

Well, as the Russians say, Das Vidania!

**~ Cora ~**


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